In Common
by Theolyn
Summary: HG leaves the wizarding world after the final battle. Years later, SS comes to find her. Rated M for future chapters. Angst, HGSS ship. Non DH compliant
1. Chapter 1

Common Darkness

As she walked into her apartment, she began to shed the trappings of the corporate world: a leather briefcase by the door, earrings and a scarf on the side table, a tailored jacket on the back of a chair. Her pumps made it half way to the kitchen before being kicked aside so that tired feet could revel in sudden freedom.

By the time she reached the wine rack, the day's work had fallen away, and her most important choice had become red or white. Feeling the need for the extra high only tannins can provide, she settled on a cabernet. She'd pay for that choice tomorrow; reds gave her such a hangover. But that was okay. As Hermione well knew, everything has its price.

Life in the muggle corporate world had been good to her. Her willingness to forgo personal time had quickly marked her as a go getter, allowing her to rise quickly through the ranks of also-rans. Her rewards were a beautiful apartment, a fat retirement account, and a damned fine bottle of wine any time she felt like having one.

It was a solitary life, but she was content. Or so she told herself, as she once again contemplated the plain wooden box on her shelf. Inside, she knew, was her wand. Simply carved, beautiful, calling to her plaintively as a child locked in on a sunny day. It was high time she took the whole thing and dropped it into the sea, cut that final tie, that last connection to the life she had chosen to leave. If she could only get rid of it, maybe she'd get rid of the nightmares once and for all. But the mere thought of it made her break into a fine sweat.

Hermione made an effort to concentrate instead on the sensation of rich wine in her mouth. She breathed in deeply, analyzing taste and scent, trying to ascertain the finer points of the wine's creation, using her senses and her intellect to slow her racing heart.

She had almost completed her meditation, along with the first glass of wine when the knock sounded at her door. Calmer now, she refilled her baccarat, and wondered idly how long it would take for whoever that was to go away.

The door opened.

She had wondered for the first few years who it would be. Who would be the one to come for her, to attempt to bring her back into the wizarding world. She'd hidden herself well, to the very best of her abilities. Without the signature of her magical use, it would be nearly impossible for anyone to find her. Still, she thought somehow they would find a way here. A Weasley perhaps. Or maybe Minerva. Or possibly the very loyal and dogged Longbottom.

She'd waited for the pop sound of apparition, almost hopefully at first, then with growing dread. But after the first few years she'd stopped waiting, ceased expecting. Intellectually, she figured she'd hidden herself too well. Emotionally, she wondered if they'd even looked at all. Perhaps they too had been relieved that she had taken herself away.

But in all her imaginings and wishings, it had never occurred to her that he would come. And yet, here he was, her former potions master, striding into her living room with his usual annoyed demeanor, looking at her for all the world like she was late for detention.

He'd aged, of course, although the years had treated him kindly. He still had the same hawkish nose, the same sardonic expression, the same long, lank hair. Even dressed for muggle London in simple slacks and a sweater, he was unmistakably Severus Snape, and the sight of him filled Hermione with nostalgia.

"So" Snape's redolent voice drawled, "this is where you have chosen to do your moping?" His eyes cast around Hermione's lovely apartment with the distain she would show an infested slum.

She couldn't help but smile. What else would one expect from the Bat of the Dungeons? Lovely place you have here?

"I'm sorry my accommodations fail to please you. So, have you come to rescue me from my pitiful muggle existence?"

When he remained silent, she shrugged, and fetched another goblet.

"Please, Professor Snape, have a seat. May I offer you a glass of Cabernet before I tell you to get the hell out of my house?"

Snape met her eyes steadily, raised an eyebrow, then nodded. For a time, they sipped in silence. Hermione watched as he scanned her apartment. She noticed his eyes linger on her wand box, and wondered if he could hear it inside, crying for freedom. Then his eyes moved on, and locked onto hers.

"This…is…unacceptable."

"Oh, goodie," Hermione snarled. "Is this where you get to tell me I'm wasting my life and should leave muggle existence behind? Because I can't wait to hear that speech."

Snape stood and closed the distance between them. "I regret to disappoint you that I have no such speech prepared. I wouldn't waste it on someone who has so little respect for her gifts. It's painfully obvious that while your body has matured, your emotions have not."

All those years as his student, all those years hungering for an approval that had never come had left a mark, preprogrammed her responses to this man. She found herself unable to controle the rush of anger that flooded her body. She jumped to her feed and stood nose to nose with her former instructor. "And what would you know about my emotions?' Hermione cried. "How can you possibly know what I felt? What I feel still?"

Snape's face gentled. If Hermione hadn't been half drunk, and half hysterical by his apparition, she would have been shocked. As it was, the unexpectedly kind expression had tears rushing to her eyes.

"Miss Granger, I was at the final battle. I know what transpired. Many good people lost their lives. Many of them your friends. You saw terrible things, you witnessed great suffering. It's not uncommon…'

The tears now sliding down her cheeks, she shook her head. "You know nothing, Severus, nothing."

He wiped her face with the palm of his hand and murmered, "Then tell me, Hermione, tell me. I've spent years looking for you, years. I need to know what has caused you to throw your future away on this average existence."

Hermione shook her head. Her voice was now barely a whisper. "I can't. I just can't make the words come out. If I do, I'll, I'll…I'll break."

They stood there, in silence. It was all Hermione could do not to lean into him. This man she had always hated, he felt somehow, like shelter, like absolution, and she suddenly wanted nothing more than to crawl into his arms.

"Well then. There is another way."

He reached out, tilted her chin, and met her eyes. "May I?"

Hermione took a deep breath, and nodded.

"Legilimens."

She felt him, as he gently slipped into her mind. He skipped quickly through her life in the muggle world, although she caught him lingering on the night she'd been hospitalized. Accidental overdose it had been ruled, although in her mind, he knew as well as she that it had been no accident. Strangely, she felt no shame at having him see it. She simply nudged him back, back to the darkest corners of her memory.

It was still there. As brilliant as any memory could ever be. Distinct. Clear. Horrible. But she found that his presence beside her distanced her. They watched impassively as the movie rolled. As Ron crumpled, a lifeless body with red hair. As Harry threw himself at the Dark Lord, carrying them both to their deaths. Suddenly her distance was gone. She was once again in the moment, raising her wand as the unforgivable words flew from her lips. Experiencing the dark, delicious pleasure as Lucious Malfoy died under her wand. And again, an avalanche of sensation as Bellatrix fell to her. Deep, visceral, ecstasy. Then, the immediate hunger to do it again.

She felt him withdraw from her head in a swift rush. He was holding her up, but his face was a mask of shock. Now it would come, she thought, the moment she had been dreading all those years. He would turn from her, tell everyone what he had seen, what she had felt. Everyone would know she was twisted inside, rotten, vile to have felt such pleasure from such a horrible deed. But at least she wouldn't have to hide anymore. She knew, now, why fugitives would turn themselves in even with freedom in their grasp. The relief was palpable.

He lowered her onto the sofa, and turned away from her. She heard the sound of wine being poured, and soon he was pressing a glass into her hand.

"Drink this, Miss Granger. It seems that you and I have more in common than I'd thought."


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

"It seems that you and I have more in common than I'd thought."

What he meant by that, Hermione couldn't say. She couldn't say anything, for she was suddenly weeping, great gasping heaves of loss, regret and relief. For years she had hidden, repressed her shame behind a dam of work, avoidance and melancholy. Now the dam was broken, and there was no stopping the flood. She wept without restraint, her face raining, her breaths coming out in ragged gulps. She was swollen, covered in tears and snot, and yet she felt no compunction that he was watching her. Somehow, in her grief, her hands found one of his. Rather than recoil in the face of her emotion, he held on to her. She felt she would be washed away were it not for this one precious anchor to sanity.

When at last she was dry and her sobs had faded to hiccups, she slumped back on the sofa and closed her eyes. She was numb and tingly from her toes to her face. He sat down beside her, and lay that comforting hand on her head. They stayed that way for some time before he uttered "Leviosa."

She was vaguely aware of being floated down the hall and into her bedroom. Lowered gently to the bed, she could focus no farther than her soothing blue sheets. Familiar, safe, good. She crawled into them like a wounded animal into sanctuary.

"Severus… Don't leave me alone tonight. It's too dark now."

He stared at her, his spy's eyes unreadable…he nodded. "Then I will watch over you while you sleep."

No sooner had he said it, than she did.

The next morning, awareness came in stages. First, the headache. Familiar, a gift from her overindulgence with last night's cabernet. Next, thirst. From drinking? No, from crying. Crying an ocean of tears as Snape looked on. Snape.

Her eyes flew open, only to meet his dark, unfathomable gaze. She searched him, for judgment, for revulsion, for contempt. But all she saw was a tired man, in rumpled slacks who had spent an uncomfortable night in her bedroom chair. Other than removing his shoes, he'd made no concession to his comfort. He'd simply sat in vigil, watching over her as he'd promised.

Hermione smiled at him, but was unsurprised when he did not smile back.

"Thank you, Professor."

"You're welcome, Miss Granger."

She flinched as he turned on a light. The headache was, well, spectacular. She turned to her nightstand, rummaged, and pulled out a bottle of Advil. Snape jumped from his chair as if she'd suddenly pulled a viper from the bedstead. On his face was a look of disgust.

"Muggle life or no, you are not going to consume that barbaric concoction."

He muttered something unintelligible, and pulled his wand out of his pocket. He summoned a small vial, and handed it to her. It was from his personal stores; she recognized the double S crest pressed into the wax seal.

She drank it, unsurprised to discover that it cleared her headache immediately. He was a potionsmaster, after all. But she was surprised that unlike the ghastly brew of Madam Pomfrey's, Snape's potion tasted sweet and creamy, like a light butterscotch. Somehow, she'd never imagined that Snape had taste buds before, or that he'd apply his genius to so banal a matter as flavor.

"It's good." She said.

"Well of course it's good," he huffed, but not before she detected a gleam of pleasure in his eyes. She filed the fact that he was not immune to deserved flattery away for later.

"Miss Granger, we should discuss…"

"Shower first. Talk later."

When she returned to living room, she found that Snape appeared alert, tidy and refreshed, not at all like he'd spent a night in an armchair, and altogether less human than he'd appeared earlier that morning.

"We need to speak, Miss Granger."

"I know. Coffee first. Then, I promise we'll talk."

She took comfort in the ritual of blending her morning drink. She liked to make her own blend, so measured different beans from several containers. Strong today. She had a feeling they'd need it. And dark…she doubted Snape was a weak coffee kind of guy. Of course, she'd roast the beans herself if put off the inevitable conversation.

When she was satisfied with the mix, she threw the beans in the grinder. To her surprise, Snapes eyes turned greedy; she knew he was considering the uses such a tool could be put to in his lab. They sat together, and waited, as the brew dripped into view.

When they were both settled with their cups, she gestured for him to begin.

"Your rash flight after the final battle was… inadvisable, Miss Granger. The feelings you experienced, that so repulsed you, they did not come from you. They did not come from within your soul. Yes, you killed. But the other thing, the pleasure, that did not come from you.

"It is a phenomenon called "l'attraction." Only the oldest, darkest magic caries it. It is a siren song for the curse, inherent to it. Like a barbaric muggle drug, it intoxicates the user, seeking to seduce him or her into repeating the spell. The magic, it seeks to reproduce itself.

"For most people, it is a gentle sensation of pleasure, a hushed lullaby, a sweet seduction. For people like us…well, the stronger the witch or wizard, the more intense the thrall. What you experienced, Miss Granger, was what I felt, the attraction, the full blown manifestation of the curse's power. Magic at its most potent.

"There are things that can be done, things to ease the desire. If you had but stayed, if you had told me, I could have… helped you. Eased the experience, provided an antidote, if you will, that would have prevented your re-infection. It was a stupid, rash thing you did to hide here. But I will say this, Miss Granger, you did what I could not do. You walked away from it.

The curse you threw, Miss Granger, out of fear, and anguish, I did for personal gain. I took a life. I fell headlong into the pleasure. I was unable to cease, unwilling to do so. I allowed myself to become enslaved. When the dark lord came, promised an easy supply of opportunity, I went to him like a dog. I wallowed in the attraction while my soul corroded. I lost years in servitude to the darkness.

That you could taste such power, feel such pleasure, and walk away, stay away for almost ten years…it's the single most admirable feat that I have ever encountered.

"I can do for you what Albus did for me. It will lessen the trauma of your memory. It will not change the fact that you have performed an unforgivable, that change is irrevocable. But the other thing, the addiction, that can be helped."

Hermione sat, digesting his story. She didn't know what to feel. Elated that there was an answer, grief for the needless years lost, gratitude for the fact that this man had come to find her. And to her shame, sadness that if she let him do what must be done, she'd never feel that hated pleasure again.

But it must be done.

"I will need to access your mind again. Will you trust me?"

"How can I not?"


	3. Chapter 3

Hermione ran her bath and pondered the day that had just ended. It had been a strange, strange morning, and she still wasn't certain how she felt about it. It had started with her waking to a rumpled Snape. Strange. Then she found out that her horrible burden was of a different sort than she'd perceived, stranger still.

Once she understood the specifics of her situation, she had accepted Snape's offer to help her contain the problem, and that's where things really got strange. The night before, she'd been full of adrenaline and shock when she'd allowed him access to her memories. This time, she was calm and present. She not only felt a foreign being enter her mind, a disturbing sensation to say the least, but she could feel that the being was Snape, she could feel his essence in her head. It was unsettling, and intimate, to wander through her past with him gliding beside her.

When they reached her memories of the final battle, Snape muttered an incantation, and a thin film grew up between the memory and her. With great effort, he continued to pour magic into the space, and the film hardened. As it did, Hermione felt her experience shift, felt the phantom pleasure recede. Snape continued. Whatever this magic was, it was not easy. When, at last, the spell was complete, and the final sensation of remembered pleasure faded away, Hermione made an involuntary noise of loss. It was gone. It was wonderful, and at the same time it was a deep ache, a loss from which she'd never heal. She felt him understand her reaction, and reflexively, her mind reached out to touch his.

It was at this point, Hermione realized, as she lowered into her bath water, that her day had moved from strange to bizarre. When she'd reflexively reached for Snape, she was suddenly sucked down a long, strange tunnel of images that ended with a vision of her 11 year-old self. She was sitting on a bench outside of Hogwarts, her hair frizzing out from her head like a corona, her face clenched in concentration as she practiced levitating a large black feather.

Only this wasn't her memory. She knew in her memory the feather was white. Furthermore, she'd branded the moment as unimportant. And here, it felt vital, crucial, life changing. The thoughts around her felt…different. Darker and melancholic.

Somehow, she realized, her reflex had catapulted her into Snape's memory, a memory of her as a child. She felt the barrage of his sensations, surprise and annoyance foremost, followed closely by fear, and a sensation she could only describe as possessiveness. The word, she could swear his mind uttered, was "Mine." Before she could understand more, she was yanked back into her living room.

At the time, she'd been too disoriented to question Snape on it. Now, from the safety of her bubble bath, she could recognize that he'd been horrified by what she'd seen. He'd done his very best to cover it, but he'd been flushed and had immediately begun the process of leaving, mentioning something about being late for tormenting his second years.

"Well, I wouldn't want to keep you from THAT professor." She'd said, smiling to lighten the mood. "But wait just a moment."

She ran into the kitchen, and came back with her blue coffee grinder. Impulsively, she shoved it into his arms. "I'm not ready to come back, you know?"

"I know, Miss Granger, but you will be."

And then he'd apparated, without so much as a goodbye, the blue coffee grinder clutched to his chest.

Hermione was out of the tub, and slathering on a generous amount of lotion before she realized that she wasn't following her normal routine. She hadn't chosen a quick shower and her PJs. Instead, she'd taken a bath, shaved her legs, plucked her eyebrows. She'd even chosen a lovely pair of panties. She was doing the things that she did when she readied herself for a man. Hermione sat down on the floor of her bathroom hard. Was this what was going on? Was she thinking of Severus Snape as a lover?

Yes, she realized, she was. And somehow, she had been, since the moment he had walked through her locked door.

If the day got any stranger, her head was going to fall off her shoulders.

She was still pondering the situation almost an hour later. What was her plan, anyway? Was she intending to go to Hogwarts? Break down his door and carry him to bed? The image held a certain appeal. She could certainly apparate to Hogsmead, and decide then. But to do that, she was going to have to use her wand.

She stood in front of the box and considered the possibilities. Her wand was in there, she could feel it. All she had to do was lift the lid and it would be ready for her.

She soon became so lost in thoughts of her wand that she didn't even hear him apparate behind her.

"That's how I found you, you know."

Hermione shrieked and whirled around. "Professor! I didn't know you were here."

"Well, that's patently obvious. Tell, me, Miss Granger, how much time have you spent over these past 9 years staring at that box?"

She smiled ruefully and rubbed a hand over her face, 'Only 3 or 4 times a day, I guess."

"When you stare at the wand, your connection to it is activated, and you throw off magic."

"But I never used it, never even touched it. It couldn't have been much to go on. How on earth could you isolate such a faint signature?"

"Your signature is…distinctive." He shook his head dismissively. "There were many who searched for you, but most lack the finesse to pick up such a faint whiff of magic. I, on the other hand, do not."

Hermione smiled to herself. At least his ego had recovered.

"But why? Why would you search so hard for so long?"

"No more whys Miss Granger…your curiosity remains as annoying as it was in your childhood."

Hermione laughed. "Well, we are testy this evening, aren't we? Hard day tormenting the second years?"

He looked at her dryly. "No. Hard night sleeping on a torturous chair. Now, are you going to take that thing out of its box or not?"

"Uh, not."

"I assure you, it is perfectly safe. I have practiced magic for many years since Albus built my shields, and have never felt the pull of the attraction again. Hermione. You can do this."

With those word in her ears, she went to the box, and lifted its lid. Her wand. Simple. Beautiful. Hers.

"Start with something basic, a spell that you really like."

She reached in to lift her wand and found that her hands were shaking, shaking so badly that she could barely lift her arm. She felt herself sliding towards panic when his deep voice came from just behind her.

"Breathe, Miss Granger. I will help you. Just breathe."

And so she did. She took a deep breath and a backwards step that brought her into contact with Snape's body. The moment she touched him her nerves left her. She breathed deeply, and inhaled his scent. No perfume. Just him, and the heat of his chest lightly touching her back. If he noticed her movement, he showed no sign. He wrapped one arm around her waist, and used the other to support her wand hand. If she leaned into him, just a little, for comfort, well, there was nothing wrong with that, was there?

"What spell, Miss Granger?"

"Huh?"

"Miss Granger, what spell were you planning on using?

"Uh, butterflies." She whispered in a husky voice.

"Well, then, get on with it."

He led her arm in the required zigzag motion as Hermione muttered "Morpho Volaris"

Suddenly the air around them exploded in giant iridescent butterflies. Hermione laughed and clapped her hands. A decade without magic, and suddenly her life was full of it.

She spun around in delight. Straight into Snape's chest.

He took a hurried step back, but not before Hermione caught an expression on his face, the same expression she'd seen in her brief moments in his memories. She knew, with the certainty only a woman can know, that this man wanted her.

"Why did you come after me, Professor?"

Snape took another step back. "You're a talented witch. So much talent, such a waste."

"Uh, huh." Hermione said, stepping closer.

The look on Snape's face spoke volumes of panic. So strange an expression in a room full of butterflies, their wings everywhere fanning rhythmically, like bellows.

Hermione pressed forward. "And how did you find me?"

He stepped back again, only to find his passage blocked by the living room wall. "I told you, your magical signature."

"And how," she stepped up to him, trapping him, "how did you remember my signature?" She leaned in, so that their bodies were in contact. He was much taller than she was, a fact she soon planned to remedy.

"I remember all my student's signatures."

She waived her wand, and raised herself up to his eye level.

"Liar."

He placed a palm on the flat of her chest. "Miss Granger, step back now. You don't know what you're doing."

"Severus." She tasted his name as she said it. "I know exactly what I'm doing, " and pressed her lips to his.


	4. Chapter 4

Though he did not return the kiss, Snape was not unaffected. She heard his strangled inhale, felt a shock run through his body as her lips made contact with his. When she stepped away, she noted that his arms were frozen at right angles to his body, as if he were trying with his every fiber not to wrap them around her.

For her part, Hermione was stunned. Even though he had not responded, she had felt the kiss through her entire body. The warmth of his lips seemed to have flooded her, leaving her flushed from her mouth to her extremities.

They stood there, two feet apart, staring at each other in shock. She was breathing quickly, her cheeks pink, her lips swollen. He was hidden behind a mask of inscrutability, his clenched fists the only sign of inner struggle.

He spoke slowly and distinctly. "No. You don't know what you are doing. And that is the only reason that we are not on the floor together right now. Do you think that my coming here was an accident? That I am some silly muggle boy to be trifled with, then discarded? I assure you, Miss Granger, that if you persist on this course, I will simply take you, and you will lose any choice in the matter."

Hermione felt herself flush even more at his words. "I thought I made it very clear that I have made my choice. And I'm choosing you."

"For a night's amusement, perhaps, but I assure you, Miss Granger, that what I am referring to is a far different endeavor. You wanted to know why I searched for you? Why I ceased to sleep and eat when you disappeared? Why my life has been spent developing the skills to track down a trail as faint as a scent in the air? Do you want to know why I hunted you like a starving man hunts a doe?"

Hermione nodded her head, breathless.

"It is because I had to. Because my future is tied to yours, because you are the hope that has kept me alive through torture and despair."

Hermione inhaled sharply. "I didn't, I mean how,…"l

"You are my Amari, Miss Granger."

Hermione blinked. The incidence of magical mates was so rare as to be considered legend. "Your magical compliment? But that hasn't happened in centuries. I never believed it was real."

"Nor did I, Miss Granger, until the day I first encountered your magic, floating a silly feather in the air. Can you imagine my shock to experience such resonance with an 11 year old child? To stare at your childish form, and feel your magic invade my core? Can you imagine the conflict I felt? I doubted my very sanity. I would have left Hogwarts had Albus allowed it. Instead, I read and researched and studied the phenomenon, and stayed as far away from you as the castle would allow. But every day you would be there, in my classroom, your prissy voice questioning, your magic flooding me worse than l'attraction. The more I was exposed to you, the more I knew, the deeper the certainty.

"So you see, I had to find you. Yesterday, when I entered your mind, it was the most… the most perfect moment of happiness I have ever felt in my life. I have no doubts left. You are my Amari."

Hermione realized that her mouth was gaping open, but she couldn't find the energy to close it. "But, the Amante is supposed to be two sided. I never…"

"Of course you didn't. You were just a child. That the Amante would rise in me before it could in you is just another of life's torments for me. But you are not a child now. And the amante is rising in you. The longer we are together, the tighter the connection will become. That is the reason that even now you are moving towards me."

Hermione looked down and realized it was true, her feet had begun to close the distance between them.

"Hermione. I know you are my amari. But you must be certain as well. I waited for you for seven years, searched for you for another nine. If I take you into my arms now, become your lover, I am not going to let go again. And I am tempted, so tempted to do so.

"But it seems that my heart disagrees. You see, I want it to be your choice, Hermione. I want you to come to me, knowingly. I want you to chose me, not simply because our magic is pushing us together, but because you want to be my mate. If you take that last step forward, you will become my mate just as surely, but then neither of us will ever know if the choice was truly yours."

Hermione exhaled. Breathing had not seemed necessary while he was speaking. Her body was screaming at her to close that last step, sink into his mouth, find oblivion in his arms. But the look of anguish on his face stopped her. The faintest inkling of what he had suffered began to sink into her mind. He had given up so much for her…could she not do this for him? Was she so weak that she couldn't give him the simple thing for which he begged? No. She was Hermione Granger. She had resisted the call of magic for almost a decade. She could do this for the man that she now knew she loved.

And so, though it cost her, she nodded. She took one painful step backwards. And another. Snape slowly blinked his eyes, relief flooding his face.

"Thank you, Miss Granger. You will know where to find me."

Then he was gone.

Author's Note: There's more to come. Thank you to all of you who have reviewed the story. The disadvantage to posting in serial format is that I don't have as much time to edit each chapter, and I suspect some of this is rushed. Please let me know if there are places that need expansion, or awkward phrases you'd like to see refined.

Thank you for reading!Theolyn


	5. Chapter 5

Author's note: this is the chapter with the M rating, folks. Read at your own risk.

The next morning, Hermione gave her two weeks notice at work. There was some uproar, an attempt to handcuff her with a sweetened options deal and an extra week's vacation each year, but Hermione paid those details little attention. She was, quite simply, too happy to care.

She had spent much of the night before in deep contemplation. At first, she'd been somewhat annoyed that her fate was being predetermined by a magical phenomenon. But the more she thought about it, the more she wondered. Who gets to chose their love anyway? Love happens, or it doesn't. The only choice one had was whether to accept love and create a relationship, or deny love and not have the loved in one's life.

Hermione's conclusion was that this was a no-brainer. With the amante magic involved, their happiness was assured. The whole concept of "happily ever after" from fairy tales was a mugglisation of the Amante. And if she could have chosen someone to love, he would have been brilliant, brave, and slightly snarky…in essence, exactly like Severus.

Sure, Snape had been an enigmatic figure in her childhood. But she'd always suspected that there was a man worth knowing beneath his exterior. Over the past two days he'd held her while she sobbed, watched over her while she slept, and on the whole provided more emotional support than she would have believed possible.

And he wanted her to choose. He respected her enough to ask her to enter a partnership of her own free will.

He was brilliant, and while not conventionally pretty, he was undeniably sexy. And that voice. It could turn her knees to water just to hear him read a shopping list. He was dramatic and dark and broody. He was Severus Snape. And Hermione felt like the luckiest woman in the world to know that he was going to be hers.

It took all two weeks to tie up the loose ends of her muggle life. She expected to feel some sense of loss or sadness when she turned in the keys to her apartment, but instead she felt mounting excitement. Her bags were packed. Hermione Granger was going home.

She found him in his classroom. He was grading papers, muttering to himself at that poor quality of the work before him. Slashing at the parchment with a quill dipped in blood red ink. To most he would have been a fierce sight, hulking over his desk in his severe black robes. But to her…she looked at him, and felt no fear, no trepidation, just a huge well of tenderness.

He looked tired, as if he hadn't been sleeping well, but he was undeniably beautiful to her eyes. Whether that was the Amante, or simply her own feelings about this man, she didn't know, and furthermore, the great Hermione Granger, the brightest witch of her age, didn't care.

"Professor."

His head whipped up, and he vaulted to his feet.

"Miss Granger." His face was filled with anxiety, and heartbreaking hope. "What is your choice?"

"I choose you, Severus. I choose you."

Snape seemed to lose all the air in his body in one whoosh, and collapsed back onto his desk chair like a deflated balloon. He turned away, and hid his face in his hands.

"I didn't think you would come. I really didn't." He said, in an uncharacteristically shaky voice. "I've been waiting for you for such a long time."

Hermione crossed to the desk, stood beside him, tears filling her own eyes. She knelt down and began to stroke his hair gently.

"I know. Severus. I know. I'm so sorry. But I'm here now. I'm here."

He lifted his face from his hands, and looked at her. "You understand there's no turning back after this, right?"

"I understand, Severus."

"And you choose to be with me of your own free will."

"I do."

He stood, and pulled her up into his arms. She pressed her cheek into the warmth of his chest, breathed in his scent, and felt something shift inside of her, like a missing piece sliding into place. Standing there, his arms around her, was the single safest feeling she'd had in her adult life.

"Home." She said, involuntarily.

Severus chuckled, "Yes, it is, isn't it." And held her tighter.

They were interrupted by a group of Gryffindors arriving for double potions. The sight of their formidable potionsmaster hugging the legendary missing heroine of Voldemort's Last Battle had them all gaping in shock.

Once she realized they had an audience, Hermione made an effort to pull away, but Snape kept her tucked in tightly against his body.

"You will alert your classmates that this period is to be used composing an essay on the various uses of hellbore in the construction of medicinal potions; I require 13 inches on my desk by the end of this period, and shall be assigning a detention in the flobberworm tanks for any student who speaks, dawdles, or in any way fails to comport themselves as if I were standing in this very classroom. And don't think I won't know who you are. Am I clear?"

The still-flabbergasted students stared dumbly, forcing Snape to bark "AM I CLEAR?" in a deafening tone. The room was full of the sound of scribbling quills by the time Snape pulled a giggling Hermione out into the corridor.

"They'll behave adequately without me, don't you think?" Hermione laughed, a loud clear peal of laughter that soon had Snape laughing along. They took off hand in hand, at a pace that was almost a run, through the maze of passages and tunnels. They finally stopped in front of an ornately carved wooden door.

"This is my private apartment. It is fully warded, and no one can enter save for myself and now you. Once the Amante has been consummated, the magic will recognize no difference between us, and you will have access to any ward that I set."

"Are you ready, Miss Granger?" He gave her a long look that brought a flush to her cheeks and a rush of wetness between her thighs. Hermione nodded and pushed open the door. He rushed her down a long hall with access to various rooms. She caught a glimpse of a rich, masculine room full of books, a fully-stocked laboratory, a gleaming kitchen and dining room, and a sumptuous bath before she was pulled into a familiar bedroom.

"It was from memory, so I'm not sure if I got it all right."

He had recreated Hermione's bedroom down to the last detail, every lovingly chosen piece of furniture, the antique bokharra rug, the reading chair and lamp. The only change she could see was that he'd furnished the space with a slightly larger bed. Even her precious blue sheets with the scalloped edges were in place, and Hermione found her eyes watering at that small kindness.

She walked across the room to him, and this time, he did not back away. This time it was he who gestured, wandless, to bring her upwards so that they stood eye to eye.

"Am I correct in assuming" he said, in his melted-chocolate voice, "that the last time we were in this position, things did not go as you had planned?"

Hermione smiled, her eyes twinkling "You'd be correct about that."

"Well, Miss Granger, are you going to let one unsuccessful try discourage you, or do you plan to try again?"

"You know, Professor, if at first you don't succeed..."

This time, when Hermione pressed her lips to his, Snape pulled her in to him, and returned the kiss. "How could anyone have such soft lips?" was her last thought before her brain ceased functioning at all.

All that was left was sensation. Scent, warmth, wetness. Small sounds of need and want. Her hands were tangled in his hair, his had slipped under her buttocks, supporting her, pulling her close to him, so that even through layers of clothes, she could feel his desire, and feel her own body answer his need.

"Too many clothes," she murmured with real frustration.

He chuckled, a deep masculine sound that made Hermione's limbs feel strangely languid, as if she'd lost the use of her musculature. "We are in no hurry, Amari. But I will help you nonetheless."

He carried her to the bed, and laid her down gently. She knew that he could have used a spell to remove her clothes, but instead he chose to use his hands. Long, graceful fingers, unbuttoning her cardigan with steady ease. The very methodical way he approached unwrapping her made her shiver. And when he finally reached the level of her skin, and had to close his eyes and breathe for a moment at the sight of her, Hermione felt like the single most desirable woman in the world.

He divested his own clothes without fanfare, and stretched his long frame down beside her. Hermione pulled back a moment so she could look at him. His body was lean, with rangy musculature and beautifully alabaster skin, but for the violent crisscrossing of scars on his torso and thighs. What did it say about her that she found those marks so completely attractive? They were marks of valor, proof that he had suffered for a cause in which he'd believed. Hermione couldn't stop herself from tracing them with a gentle finger. He lay there watching her explore his body with dark fathomless eyes.

When she replaced her finger with her tongue, he growled and pulled her on to him. "You are not…making…finesse…easy, Miss Granger."

Hermione chuckled and slid a lean hand between his legs, caressing what she found there, "Professor, surely at this point, we are on a first-name basis."

"Hermione." He ground out her name once, then crushed his mouth on to hers. When they broke apart, both were panting.

"Hermoine. Open for me."

At the same moment she felt him slide inside of her body, he locked eyes with her, and she felt his presence slide inside of her mind. At once, she was experiencing his sensations mingled with her own. The tight wet pressure of her body surrounding him, the heavy, swollen feeling in his testicles, the intoxicating scent of her juices. She knew he could feel what was happening in her body, how his slow, steady pace was stretching her, forcing her to the boarder between pleasure and pain, building an ache in her core that screamed to be released.

Every move was amplified, heightened, experienced through two bodies rather than one. If it hadn't been for his dark eyes, anchoring her, she would have washed away in the sea of desire.

As it was, when the sensation began to crest, she didn't know at first whose body it was from. There was golden light, honey and wine, the glorious feeling that meant her climax was inevitable. When the first involuntary spasm hit her, with its overwhelming sensation of completion, she realized it was her own orgasm, and that her climax was bringing Snape's. Just as the waves of her pleasure began to recede, his began to build, less honey, less sunlight, but a deeper, more violent sense of pleasurable release. She held him tightly as the waves of pleasure washed through both of them, to be slowly replaced by a sleepy acknowledgement of how good it felt to be held by her.

She lay her cheek against his sweaty chest, and felt like her entire body was made of sunshine. She looked up at Snape. His eyes were closed, but his mouth was smiling, a smile of simple happiness. Hermione summoned a blanket to cover them both, snuggled under its warmth. Hermione Granger was home at last.

Author's note: There is one final chapter to come. Thank you for reading. The0lyn.


	6. Chapter 6

Strange that she should feel so energized after a night containing so little sleep. Severus seemed to feel the same way, given the fact that he was even now striding around their bedroom, nude, singing the tenor's part from Tosca in a passable imitation of an operatic voice.

Hermione sat in bed, grinning, and applauded after a particularly robust ending. "I'm glad to see that you have no body issues in front of me."

Snape snorted. "I have many faults, Hermione, but you will find that false modesty is not one of them. I know my face is not handsome, but the form of my body I believe to be pleasing, a point you made amply clear during last night's exercise.

"While we are on that particular topic, do you require a potion to address any minor aches or pains?"

Now that he mentioned it, as the endorphins were fading, Hermione was aware that certain parts of her anatomy were quite tender. Last night's adventures had been varied; sometimes they'd been gentle with each other, and sometimes not. Oh, well, everything had a price.

Snape handed her a small bottle of potion. "It is a restorative coupled with a mild pain reliever. I made it for you sometime between act IV and act V. Now, don't get all gooey, it is as self-serving a gift as there ever was." He smirked, wiggled his eyebrows.

Hermione giggled and swigged the tonic. It tasted like strawberries. Not artificial strawberries, but like she had just taken a bite out of a ripe summer fruit.

"Severus, that's amazing! How did you do that?"

Snape smiled, well pleased by her reaction. "Yes it is, isn't it? I'll show you the trick next time we have nothing better to do…but that moment," he pronounced, leaping for the bed, "will not be today."

Five years later…

Hermione loved being back in the wizarding world. The position of Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher suited her down to the ground. As far as Severus was concerned, she was the only person other than he who could manage the position without making a mess of it.

With Minerva's approval, she overhauled the entire structure of the curriculum, seeking to reduce the mystery that made the dark arts so irresistible to a certain type of student. She flouted tradition by bringing honesty and full disclosure to her classroom. It became tradition that every year, in the final days of the term, she would lecture her 7th years on the use of Unforgivables, sharing her experience, communicating the reality and consequences that came with their use.

And every year, Snape would arrange his schedule so that he could attend that lecture. He would stand in the back of the room, lending her his strength and his courage as Hermione bravely broke every taboo in the wizarding world.

This year, unexpectedly, he'd joined her at the front of the room. He'd come forward, and shared his own experiences with darkness. It flabbergasted and humbled her that he would be so vulnerable in front of a group of students.

The students, respectful during her story, were mesmerized by his. That he'd survived it, and rebuilt his life afterwards seemed almost superhuman. She was unsurprised to notice that afterwards the students treated him with admiration bordering on awe.

Perhaps it was simply a sign of their ongoing healing that he could afford such vulnerability. Perhaps it was in honor of the imminent birth of their child that he would make such a sacrifice. Regardless, Hermione had never been so proud of another human in her entire life.

"Hey there handsome. How are you feeling?"

He considered her question carefully, a habit she loved. He always did his very best to give her truth. "A little naked, actually, but good, surprisingly good."

He rubbed his hands over the ripe swell of her belly. "And how are you doing?"

She leaned against him. "Mmmmm, better. Everything that went down today stayed down. And I've only cried twice today. I think that may be my third trimester record."

"Good." He said with deepest satisfaction. The pregnancy hadn't been an easy one, but she believed that Snape had suffered her every ache and indignity far worse than she had.

He brushed his lips over her hairline. In pregnancy, it had grown thicker and more unruly than ever. She simply could not get it to behave. He loved it. It reminded him of the 11-year-old know-it-all who first turned his desolate life upside-down.

"Hermione, do you ever wonder about us? About why the amante magic chose to bring us together?"

"mmm" she hummed, "not really, but I'm grateful."

"Well, I've often wondered, in those days when I was dual service, if I would have survived had I not had the idea of you as a beacon, forcing me to go on."

Hermione shook her head. " No. You would have found a way, Severus. You have too much strength of will to have surrendered. Perhaps it wouldn't have been as easy, nor the ending so happy, but you would have survived. Just as I would have survived, even if you hadn't come for me. But I would never have been who I am now. I would never have found this happiness without you."

"Yet one more thing we have in common, Mrs. Snape," he said, bringing her hand to his lips, "one more thing we have in common."

The End

Afterword:

Though the scars on his body would never heal, over the years, the scars on Snape's heart yielded to Hermione's constancy and love. Block by block, she filled in the empty spaces that a forlorn childhood and a doomed young love had made in his emotional structure. In their time together, he rediscovered optimism and hope.

For Hermione, Snape's love eased the depths of her grief. Her parents, Albus, Harry, Ron. Nothing could replace their loss or the loss of innocence she experienced when she took a human life. But Snape's love helped her to regain interest in the future and faith in the endless possibilities of life.

_And they lived happily ever after._

Author's Notes: Thank you so very much for reading. I've enjoyed your comments and feedback. I'm going to take some time off, then return to polish up the story. Please let me know if there are areas you'd like to see refined or expanded. Typos are also appreciated. Many thanks, The0lyn.


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